Grace Brooks Hill

“ Heard, her face alight with pleasure at this united invitation. “You are just the nicest girls I ever met. I wonder if I’d better?”
“Of course,” said Ruth. “You can find some place to leave the pony. Or Neale can, I’m sure.”
“Why, I know these people right in the very next house,” said Mrs. Heard. “Indeed I expected to call there if Jonas ever got that far.”
Neale got briskly out of the car again. “I’ll go and unharness him,” he said, cheerfully. “You just find out where I shall put him. He’d rather have you ride in an automobile than drag you himself,” and he laughed. ”

“ Neale told her, “I don’t believe it is. You can take three straws of different lengths. I’ll hold ’em. The one that draws the longest straw takes the egg—and can have it cooked any way she or he pleases.”
“But then the others won’t get any,” wailed Dot, whose appetite was evidently sharpened by the morning air.
“Shucks!” said Neale, washing his hands of the matter. “Give it to Tom Jonah, then. He’ll eat it raw—shell and all.”
“Oh, no,” said Tess, with sudden inspiration. “We must give it to Mrs. Heard for her breakfast. I’ll ask the blacksmith’s wife to cook it.” ”

“ Just at that very moment, when the six-foot rattler had coiled to strike again, there was a rattling and jangling of tinware from up the road. There was a turn not far ahead, and the young folks could not see beyond it.
“Goodness me!” exploded Agnes, “what’s coming now?”
“Not another rattlesnake, I bet a cent—though it’s some rattling,” chuckled Neale O’Neil. ”

“ Heard and Ruth ransacked their purses for pennies to distribute to the bare-legged children attached to the camp.
“And we were wild girls, too—for a little while,” said Dot. “Weren’t we, Tess?”
“Too bad you were so wild that I didn’t find you when I was over this way early this morning,” grumbled Neale O’Neil. “Anyway, if I hadn’t insisted on coming we wouldn’t have found the kids yet.”
“My! aren’t you smart?” scoffed Agnes, who felt happy enough to bicker with him now. “Well! somebody, I suppose, must blow a horn for you—why not yourself?” ”

“ Collinger’s stolen automobile was there under the hay. By the light of their own automobile lanterns Neale uncovered the runabout and finally hauled it out on the barn floor.
“What do you suppose is the matter with it?” asked Ruth.
“Why, nothing, of course,” cried Mrs. Heard, almost in tears, she was so happy. “Philly will be so delighted.”
“Guess I’d better telegraph to him in the morning when I send for that casting—eh?” said Neale.
“Oh! if you will, Neale,” said the chaperone. “He can come and get the car himself. Oh, dear me! ”

“ You’re not half a dog or you’d have been able to follow ’em.”
The big Newfoundland, with drooping flag and sheepish look, scrambled into the front of the car. So did Sammy. The automobile started and they sped away toward Frog Hollow, or Arbutusville, each revolution of the wheels taking them farther and farther from the lost children, sleeping under the great tree at the edge of the distant wood lot.
The automobile party were to spend a very anxious night—much more so than Tess and Dot Kenway, who had sobbed themselves to sleep among the huge tree-roots. ”

“ Little folks especially—like Tess and Dot and Sammy—cannot sit patiently, even in an upholstered touring car, hour after hour. It was pleasant to ride so smoothly through the lovely country; it was nicer still to halt by the wayside and hunt for adventure.
Tom Jonah, who was by nature a tramp, enjoyed the excursions away from the automobile as much as did the children—and he was never again off their trail at such times. If Tess and Dot and Sammy left the party, somebody would be sure to speak to the old dog, and up he would get in order to follow the children. ”

“ In a moment more the modern pirate was lashed to the post, yelling vigorously, while the ram was brought to a stop again on too short a rope to do the boy any damage with his ugly horns, although he threatened Sammy continuously.
The screams of the three children and the barking of Tom Jonah was bound to raise the neighborhood. A shout soon replied, and the screaming of other youthful voices. Into the field at its far end came a man, running, and close upon his heels several ragged and bare-legged children, both boys and girls. ”

“ Sammy scrambled up the rough side of the gully. Tom Jonah bounded after him and then 211 looked back at his little mistresses to see if they were coming too.
“Well! I won’t be beaten by a boy,” said Tess, with sudden decision. “Let’s go too, Dot.”
It was a rather hard pull for the little girls; and Dot got her knees “scrubby,” although she saved the Alice-doll’s dress. They came to the top of the height all but breathless and with flushed faces.
Sammy was coolly picking the best berries and cramming them into a mouth which betrayed to all who might behold his greediness. ”

“ Here they sat in their new, high-powered car, ready and anxious to spin over the country roads to their goal—a famous picnicking grounds fifty miles from Milton—and a little old fat brown pony, with a stubborn disposition and a cropped mane, held them up as certainly as though he had been a highway robber!
The four young Kenways—Ruth, Agnes, Tess and Dot—with Aunt Sarah Maltby (who really was only an “adopted” aunt) had been very poor indeed before Uncle Peter Stower had died and left the girls the bulk of his estate and a small legacy to Aunt Sarah. ”

“ Yet, after all, they were glad to get home when the car rolled up to the Willow Street gate of the Stower homestead. Mrs. MacCall and Linda ran out of the gate to welcome them. Uncle Rufus hobbled around from the garden, swinging his tattered straw hat and cheering. Even Aunt Sarah Maltby appeared on the porch to welcome somewhat grimly her nieces and Neale O’Neil.
Then, from across the street came Mrs. Pinkney, with a delighted scream of welcome.
“Oh, Sammy! How you’ve grown!” she declared, when she had hugged and kissed the would-be pirate, and then stood off to look at him. ”

“ All he said in answer to the excited questions of the girls was:
“That’s a fellow called Saleratus Joe. You can tell why—his face with all those yellow freckles looks like an old fashioned saleratus biscuit. He belongs in Milton. I’ve seen him before. He isn’t much better than a saloon lounger.”
“Goodness me!” exclaimed Mrs. Heard. “Saleratus Joe is one of the fellows who my nephew thinks stole his automobile. I must tell him that we saw the fellow. Perhaps the car can be traced after all.”
“Through Saleratus Joe?” said Neale O’Neil. “Well—maybe.” ”

“ Neale, leading the pony, turned a corner in the lane, and there came upon a house. The lady had left the phaeton to speak to the girls more companionably. Neale tied the pony to the picket fence before the house, leaving the hitching strap long enough to allow the animal to graze.
“Well, I want to know!” cried the woman, when the boy returned to the car. “How did you do that? What did you do to Jonas to make him change his mind?”
“This is Mrs. Heard, Neale,” said Ruth, smiling. “You sometimes do prove to be a smart boy. What did you do to him?” ”

“ Everything that they could possibly need for the day’s outing was gathered together and taken out to the big, shiny, seven-passenger touring car that stood gloriously in the morning sunshine before the Willow Street door of the old Corner House.
Tom Jonah, the old Newfoundland dog, and the guardian of the premises, evidently desired to accompany the merry party; but Ruth vetoed that, although he might have ridden in the front seat with Neale.
“And I’m going to ride there myself,” declared Agnes, firmly. “I’ve got to learn to run this car right away. ”

“ Heard.
“Then we surely will have to stay here to-night,” said Agnes, and she did not sound as though the prospect worried her much.
“And to-morrow night—and the next night—and for several more, if you ask me,” growled Neale. “That is, unless I can get a wagon and drive you all to the nearest railroad station, and send you back to Milton.”
“Nev-air!” cried Agnes. “Let you stay here and have all the fun? Stingy!”
“My goodness, child,” murmured the chaperone. “What do you call fun?” ”

“ Neale O’Neil came out, yawning as he had gone to bed, and opened the door of the shed in which the automobile had been lodged in lieu of a proper garage. Neale always looked over the car before they started the day’s run, as all careful chauffeurs should. 172
The children ran for the automobile, of course, before Neale could back it out of the shed; and as Tess and Dot and Sammy jumped on the steps to ride out, a white hen flew from the tonneau with a wild squawk. ”

“ Heard. “Don’t show them much money. We don’t know what sort of men they may be. Peddlers——”
Neale reached back into the car and seized a heavy wrench. “Nothing like ‘preparedness,’” he said, with a grin.
“My goodness!” exclaimed Agnes, giggling suddenly, “they’ll think you are a highway robber.”
“I’m going to hold them up all right,” returned Neale O’Neil, with assurance.
The wagon was evidently hung with a large supply of tinware and the like, but all under the canvas cover. Yet it came down the hill at such a pace that the horses must not have found their load a heavy one to draw. ”

“ The king of the Gypsies had been examining the automobile most curiously during this time.
“Fine car,” he said to Neale. “I’m thinking some of getting one myself. Only trouble is, sure to frighten the horses, and if we didn’t have horses to trade they wouldn’t believe we were Gypsies,” and he smiled with a wonderful flash of strong, white teeth. ”

“ I see,” grumbled Neale. “A glimmer of intelligence reaches my brain. You are talking about the trip in the auto after school closes.”
“Is that it?” cried Agnes, clasping her hands. “Oh, Ruthie!”
“That is it, my dear! Mr. Howbridge just spoke about it himself. He has known Mrs. Heard for years, you see, and he thinks she would be just the nicest person in the world to go with us.”
“And so she is,” agreed Agnes.
“Well,” said Dot, who had listened in grave silence, “if we are going off on a long journey with our car, my Alice-doll must have her complexion ‘tended to. ”

“ Just as Neale O’Neil and Agnes reached the spot, the chauffeur pushed Maynard in and stepped quickly into his own place.
“Say! what did you do to this little girl?” demanded Neale, with some heat, addressing the chauffeur.
The fellow did not answer; neither did the big man; and Maynard had tumbled into a seat without a word. Dot had already picked up her doll; it was not hurt. The car started and rolled away.
“The mean thing!” exclaimed Neale. “Don’t cry, Dot.”
“I—I’m not going to,” sobbed the smallest Corner House girl. “I don’t b’lieve they’ll be kind to that man. He’s awful sick.” ”

“ Ruth and Mrs. Heard were laughing heartily. Agnes said, admiringly:
“You’re a wonder, Dot! If there is a possible way of fumbling a thing, you do it.”
The little girls were not likely to understand all that Mrs. Heard said about the disappearance of Mr. Collinger’s automobile—no more than Dot understood about the surveyor’s transit. But they listened.
“You understand, Miss Ruth,” said the aunt of the county surveyor, “that Phil Collinger is responsible for all those tracings and maps that are being made in this road survey. ”

“ Sammy, however, had a good time. He confided to Mrs. Heard and Ruth that he had never had such a good time in his life. He got letters and money from his mother and father, just as the Corner House girls did, likewise, from home; and he was actually growing sturdy looking as well as brown.
“Whether this tour does anybody else good or not, Sammy P. is being helped,” declared Mrs. Heard.
“‘Sammy P. Buttinsky,’” sniffed Agnes. “Such a plague. I believe his mother will lose ten years of her age in appearance during this time of Sammy’s absence. She certainly ought to be our friend for life.” ”

“ Neale eyed her quizzically for a long half minute—that is, with one eye. The other he kept faithfully on the road ahead.
“Aggie,” he said, “you beat the world. Mucilage isn’t in it with you for sticking to a thing when your mind is once set upon it.”
“Well, I don’t care!” she pouted.
“Oh, yes you do. You evidently do care or you wouldn’t be talking about that stolen car all the time. What’s the odds where Mr. Brady and his chauffeur have gone? You don’t suppose Brady knows anything about Mr. Collinger’s machine himself, do you?” ”

“ You can git out, ma’am, I’m sure,” he added, to Mrs. Heard, as Ruth jumped from the car. “Get out your baggage too—this here little shaver can help at that,” and he rumpled Sammy’s hair with his big hand.
“But—but——Do you mean we can stay here?” gasped Mrs. Heard.
Ruth had scarcely reached the door when it was opened from within. A comfortable figure of a woman, with spectacles and gray hair, faced the oldest Corner House girl.
“Well, well!” said “Mother,” in just the hearty tone of voice a mother should possess. “An automobile party? Well, well! ”

“ The blacksmith’s wife put up a hamper of lunch for the automobile tourists, too, and when they drove away at nine o’clock the Corner House girls and their companions felt as though they were bidding good-bye to two old and valued friends. ”